The Crutch
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: After Crutchie hits a growthspurt, he starts to have trouble walking with a crutch that's too small for him. But, when Jack tries to help, he might just end up getting himself into a much worse problem. (I sincerly hope that the story is better than the summary.) (One-shot)


**Author's Note: So, this was originally going to be really light and fluffy, but I guess I changed my mind. (I also think I may have won an award for using the word "you'se" the most amount of times in one story.) This takes place roughly two years before the Strike, when Crutchie is 13, and Jack is 15.**

 **I hope you like it! If you do, or even if you don't, reviews are very much appreciated! And, if you have any ideas for stories, I'd be happy to hear them!**

 **That's all I've got to say! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Crutchie had never been great at walking. Which, he admitted to himself with dismay, was a pretty essential skill. Though, he didn't seem to mind it. He always wore a wide smile, and carried himself with confidence. So what? He had a crutch. It didn't stop him from getting from Point A to Point B, so he didn't let it bother him.

But, lately, walking with the crutch had gotten a little harder. Crutchie had also never been very tall, so his crutch was rather small. And, he still wasn't tall at all, but, like most boys at thirteen, he found that he'd hit a growthspurt.

And, Crutchie admired his new height once he'd realized it. He grinned at himself in the mirror and drew back his shoulders, feeling a wave of pride and maturity wash over him.

But, this new height had its downside. That small crutch that he'd been using for the past few years no longer fit like a charm, and he found himself leaning over so that he could reach the crutch.

Jack noticed this one morning as they were leaving the Lodging House, and he wasn't about to just let it go. The fifteen year old tapped his friend on the shoulder. "Hey, Crutchie, what's up?"

Crutchie looked up. "I believe the sky is up, Jack."

"No," Jack scoffed with a smirk. "I mean, what's up with you? You'se been walkin' funny lately."

"I always walk funny," Crutchie replied. "That's what happens when you got a gimp leg. What about it?"

"Yeah, but it's different," Jack said. "It looks like the crutch's been givin' you trouble."

"Well," Crutchie scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "It hasn't been fittin' me right lately," He explained. Then, he gave Jack a grin, pulled his shoulders back like he did when looking in the mirror, and added, "In case ya didn't notice, I'm taller now!"

"Oh, I noticed," Jack answered, ruffling Crutchie's hair. "You'se gonna be taller than me soon enough. But, why don't you get a new crutch?"

"These things is expensive," Crutchie said, motioning to his crutch with his free hand. "And, anyway, I'm fine. I can still walk, so that's better than nothin'!" Jack gave him a doubting look. "Really, I's fine!" The younger boy added.

Jack nodded slowly. "Right then,"

"No, really!" Crutchie exclaimed. "Now, c'mon, let's get down there, and maybe the coffee'll still be warm if we's fast enough!" He hobbled forward quickly, and tripped over his foot.

Jack rushed over and caught him. "Woah,there, Crutchie! Slow down!"

Crutchie looked up at Jack and smirked, feeling his cheeks heat up. "Thanks, Jack."

Jack patted Crutchie's shoulder and helped him stand upright again. "Now, what was that you was sayin' your crutch bein' fine?"

* * *

"Mornin' Weasel!" Jack greeted, tipping his hat to the unamused man before him.

"Would it do any good to tell you it's Wiesel by now?" Mr. Wiesel asked with a frown.

"Probably not, Weasel," Jack grinned. Pulling his coins out of his pocket, he said, "I'll take...one hundred and...fifteen papes."

"One hundred fifteen?" Crutchie asked from behind him. "That's an awful lot."

"Nothin' I can't sell," Jack replied. "It's only fifteen more than I usually get." Then, turning back to Wiesel, he added, "You know what? Make it an even one hundred twenty."

"Jack, you're crazy!" Crutchie exclaimed.

"Sure am!" Jack agreed, pushing his coins towards Wiesel.

Wiesel sighed and handed Jack a tall stack of newspapers. "Okay, then. Not my problem if you don't sell 'em all."

"Oh, I will," Jack said with determination, shoving the papers into his bag.

Crutchie stepped up and ordered his papers, and as he waited for them, he turned to Jack and questioned, "You got any reason for orderin' so many papes, Cowboy?"

Jack shook his head. "I just got confidence in today. It ain't snowin' for the first time in weeks, so that's gotta mean somethin' good."

As he took his papers, Crutchie glanced at Jack and said, "That's a gutsy move."

Jack shrugged. "Guess I'm gutsy, then. Now, c'mon! We gotta head out if we wanna sell all these!"

* * *

Jack had rushed around Manhattan all day, with Crutchie by his side, trying every selling spot he could. Now, it was evening, and he was trying to sell his last few papers.

"Extra, extra!" Jack shouted at the people passing by. "Get your evening pape here! Only five left!"

"Jack, you'se sold a ton today," Crutchie said. "It's gettin' late now. Why don't you call it a night?"

"No way," Jack replied, still waving a newspaper in the air. "I's nearly sold 'em all! I can't quit now! But, hey, you should probably be headin' back to the Lodging House."

"So should you!" Crutchie countered, putting his hand on his hip. "Seriously, Jack, you done good today. You should come back and get some rest."

"What do I need rest for?" Jack asked. "Head on back without me, Crutch. I'll meet you down there."

"I ain't goin' back 'til you come," Crutchie huffed, planting his crutch firmly on the ground.

Jack sighed and fished in his pocket for coins. He began counting them, and when he was done, he dropped him back and obliged. "Fine, I guess I'll call it a night."

"Good," Crutchie said, giving Jack a pat on the back. As they walked in the direction of the Lodging House, he asked, "So, really, what had you wantin' to sell so many papes today?"

"I told you, I just had a good feelin' about today," Jack answered, but Crutchie still looked unsure."Now, you tell me, how tall do you think you is?"

Crutchie got visibly excited at this question, forgetting his questions about Jack's motive to sell. "Well," Crutchie began with a grin. "I was four-foot-nine, but I grew a lot, so I think I mighta hit the five foot mark!"

"'Attaboy!" Jack laughed. "Hey, how much you wanna bet that you'se as tall as Racetrack now?"

"I don't know," Crutchie shrugged. "I'd say Race is at least five-foot-two, and he's still growin', too."

"Nah, he ain't that tall," Jack said. "Heck, you may even be taller than him!"

"No way!" Crutchie giggled.

The boys joked all the way back to the Lodging House, with the sun setting behind them, and Jack being more than ready for a new day to dawn.

* * *

That night, Jack had decided to sleep on the rooftop, as per usual. Crutchie had wanted to join him, but the wind had proved to be too cold that night, so he ended up sleeping inside. The next morning, he'd headed straight for the roof, but was surprised to see that Jack wasn't up there.

"Hey, has anyone seen Jack this mornin'?" Crutchie had asked the other Newsies once he'd gotten back down.

"He ain't in his penthouse paintin' New Mexico?" Specs asked.

Crutchie shook his head, frowning. "I can't find him anywhere."

"Ah, he'll turn up," Race said. "Don't worry about it."

Crutchie nodded unsurely, then turned to Race and asked, "Hey, how tall are you?"

"Why?" Race asked, lighting a cigar.

"Jack says I'm taller than you," Crutchie answered, holding back a laugh.

Race looked up and raised his eyebrow. "Jack's outta his mind. Of course I'm taller. Don't take personally, Crutchie, but you'se a shrimp."

"I don't know, Race," Specs said, squinting his eyes. "When he's not leanin' over that crutch of his, Crutchie may have an inch or so on you."

"Pfft," Race scoffed. "Is everyone here nuts?"

Buttons glanced from Crutchie to Race. "I dunno, Race. You might be the shrimp here."

"Oh, yeah?" Race asked. "Prove it! I'll bet each of you a quarter that I'm taller!"

"Deal!" Buttons said. "Crutchie, come here. I'll help you stand upright."

Crutchie grinned and walked over. Buttons lifted Crutchie's arm, put it over his shoulder, and set the crutch down. "Race! Stand back to back with Crutchie!"

"Fine then," Race said, folding his arms. He strode over and stood behind Crutchie, pulling his shoulders back.

Specs came over and put his hand over their heads. He moved his hand back and forth for a little bit.

"Will ya hurry it up?" Race said. "I wanna get a kind of hot breakfast!"

Specs frowned. "Do you want an accurate measurement or not?"

"I want the quarters you guys owe me," Race snapped.

Specs smirked and said, "I think it's you who owes us quarters. Crutchie's got at least an inch on you."

"Really?" Crutchie asked with a grin.

"Really?" Race echoed, his tone defeated. "No way!"

"Yeah, he sure is taller!" Buttons agreed, glancing at the two of them. "You owe us money!"

"Yes!" Crutchie pumped his fist.

"Who's the shrimp now, shortstop?" Buttons laughed.

"Oh, hush up," Race grumbled. "I bet I'll be taller than you again in a month,"

Eventually, the boys got so caught up in the height dispute that they didn't realize that Jack still hadn't returned to the Lodging House.

* * *

Jack strolled down the Manhattan road, proudly holding a wooden crutch, fit perfectly for someone who was five feet tall. He'd gotten up really early to make sure he could get it without Crutchie noticing, and he'd spent almost all of his pocket money on it, but he felt it was well worth it.

But, now, his stomach was aching with hunger, and he had nothing to eat. He looked up at the clock and realized, with sinking feeling, that the nuns handing out breakfast would be long gone by now. Jack sighed, knowing he couldn't buy anything.

He eyed a cart filled with apples as he passed it. Now, Jack seldom stole things, only when it was absolutely nessacary. He always avoided it when he could, but this morning, he had nearly nothing in his pockets (just enough to buy his papers from Wiesel), and he was still quite far away from the place he could buy them.

So, Jack decided he'd take an apple. Just one apple, and he'd be on his way. What harm could it do, anyway? There had to be at least one hundred apples in that cart, probably more.

Jack approached the cart and discreetly grabbed an apple. He was about to bite into when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Hey, boy! Are you gonna pay for that?"

Jack whirled around and say a tall, sharply dressed man who seemed to be about in his early fifties staring at him. Jack's heart fell to the bottom as he realized who this was. He'd heard stories about this man. This man who took boys, beat them up, and threw them in the Refuge. This man who had given even the toughest boys at the Lodging House nightmares that were worse than anything Jack could imagine.

Snyder.

Jack glanced at the apple in his hand and back up at Snyder. "Of course, sir!" He lied, offering the man a grin. "Just slipped my mind!"

"Then, let me see you pay the man at the cart," Snyder ordered.

Jack could feel his hands start shaking. He shoved one of his trembling hands in his pocket. "Oh, um," He stammered, glancing at his pocket. "It seems I've, uh, miscounted my money. Looks like I'll have to put this back, then."

"So, you're telling me that you really had the intention of paying for that?" Snyder questioned with a sneer.

"Yeah," Jack said. "Sure did."

"I've met millions of boys like you, and I'll meet millions more," Snyder grimaced, stepping closer to Jack. "You're lying to me."

Jack stepped back. "What gives you that idea?"

"Do you know who I am?" Snyder asked, ignoring Jack's question. "Because, I know who you are, Jack Kelly."

Jack stopped, feeling his fear replaced by both confusion and anger. "Hold on, how do you know that?"

"Jack Kelly," Snyder repeated, a smirk appearing on his face. "Sly boy, dead mom, and who knows where your dad is."

"Hey, you answer me, Snyder," Jack exclaimed with a confidence that seemed to sprout from his anger. "How do you know that?"

"So, you know me, too?" Snyder questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, I do!" Jack squinted at him. "Snyder. Runs the Refuge, arrests boys just to get money in his own greedy pocket, and all-around asshole."

Snyder clenched his jaw. "Well, then. How do _you_ know _me?"_

"'Cause you," Jack pointed at Snyder, stepping closer. "You'se scarred my brothers for life, just for money! Now, _you_ give _me_ answers! How do you know me, Snyder?"

"Jack Kelly," Snyder sighed. "We have you marked down for stealing clothing and food. You've always gotten away with it, but with the help of my good friends, the Delanceys, I've finally tracked you down." He grabbed Jack by the collar. "And, you're coming with me."

Jack felt his breath come out quickly and panicked. "No, I ain't." He whispered, and kicked Snyder's ankle. Snyder let go, and Jack ran as fast as his legs could carry him, clutching onto the crutch so hard that his knuckles turned white. He turned down an alley and ran straight into Morris Delancey.

"Slow down, Kelly," Morris smirked, pushing Jack down. Oscar walked over, kicked Jack, and snatched the crutch from his hand. He was about to break it in half when Jack spoke up.

"Wait!" Jack winced, breathless from having been kicked in the stomach. "You...you can arrest me. Haul me-haul me away, I don't care. But, you leave that crutch alone, and make sure it gets to-to Crutchie Morris."

"And, why should I do that?" Oscar asked, peering down at Jack.

Jack pushed himself up on his elbows with effort. "'Cause, I'm willin'...to fight you more."

Morris laughed. "I'm so scared of the boy who can't stand up."

Jack stood up and punched Morris. Morris punched back, and the fighting continued for a while until Jack pushed Morris over. Oscar ran up to Jack, and grabbed him by the collar, but Snyder walked up behind Jack. "Now, now," He said. "That's enough, boys. You can see Jack here's about to give out." Snyder strolled over and grabbed Jack by the shoulder. "Are you ready to give in now?"

Jack panted, feeling warm tears run down his bruised face. "Fine," He panted. "Lock me up...but, you...you bring that crutch to Crutchie. Crutchie Morris."

"Is your partner in crime?" Snyder hissed. "Should I be bringing him to the Refuge, too?"

"No!" Jack shouted hoarsely. "Leave Crutchie...leave him alone! Just bring him...the crutch. Or, I'll run. I don't care how bad I's soaked. I'll get far...far away from you...and you won't find me. I'm good at hidin'."

Snyder stared at him for a moment in silence before saying, "Fine. Now, you're coming with me."

* * *

A heavy air hung over the Lodging House. Jack had been gone all day, and no matter where they looked, no one could find him. No one was really sure what to do, and everyone was on edge.

"Look, he couldn't have just vanished!" Race exclaimed.

"Well, where could he be?" Albert snapped.

"I'll tell you where he could be," Race muttered with a grimace.

"No!" Crutchie responded sharply, locking eyes with Race. "He ain't there. Why would he be?"

"Well, where else would he be?" Race asked. "Where else do guys just disappear to with no warnin'?"

"It adds up," Specs admitted grimly.

Crutchie sighed and got off of his bed. "I'm goin' to the roof."

"It don't matter how many times you go up there, Crutchie," Race said, half-exasperated, but half-pitying. "He ain't just gonna appear up there."

Silence.

Crutchie looked away and started to hobble out of the room. "I'm goin' to the roof." He repeated, quieter this time.

* * *

It was dawn.

Crutchie had spent all night on the roof, alone. He hadn't slept, though. He'd just stared at the stars, pretending Jack was next to him, telling him all about Santa Fe.

"Hey Crutchie?"

Crutchie glanced over his shoulder and saw eleven-year-old Romeo at the top of the ladder. "Hey Romeo," Crutchie responded sadly. "What is it?"

Romeo approached Crutchie nervously. "You got a package," He said, revealing a box with a piece of paper taped to it. "And a letter."

"From who?" Crutchie asked confused.

Romeo hesitated. "It-it's from Jack." He mumbled.

"It's from Jack?" Crutchie echoed hopefully. "Where's he writin' from?"

Romeo backed away. "Race told me it'd best of you just read it," He said.

Crutchie's face fell. He paused before saying, "All right. Thanks, Romeo."

"No problem," Romeo replied softly, climbing down the ladder.

Crutchie waited until he was gone to read the letter. He read it carefully. Crutchie wasn't great at reading, since he hadn't been taught entirely, but he wanted to make sure that he got every word of this letter right.

" _Dear Crutchie,_

 _This is Jack._

 _I'm in the Refuge, but I'm okay. Snyder the Spider got me this morning (or yesterday, depending on when you read this.), but I won't be here long. I'm already planning on how to get out, so don't expect me to be gone too long._

 _Anyway, I got you something. I really hope it fits. I know it's not real nice or fancy, but it was the best I could afford. I wanted to be there when you tried it, but that ain't happening. So, try it, see how it fits, and tell me all about it once I'm out._

 _Like I said, I'll be back soon. Don't you or any of the other guys worry._

 _I wish I could write you a better letter, but Snyder's coming to stop me now."_

The letter ended abruptly. Crutchie stared at it numbly for a while, before he could bring himself to open the package. Eventually, after what could have been anywhere between a minute and an hour, he opened the box to reveal a wooden crutch, smooth and new. Crutchie felt the wood, feeling tears sting at his eyes.

Slowly, he stood up, and put the crutch under his arm. He felt a shaky smile appear on his face. He looked in the direction of the Refuge and whispered, "It fits like a charm, Jack."


End file.
